


he had it coming

by kaitycole



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Drowning, Gen, Gun Violence, Head Injury, Major Character Injury, Murder, Murderers, Poisoning, Stabbing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitycole/pseuds/kaitycole
Summary: Inspired from Chicago's song: Cell Block Tango, follow a journalist named Alex Hunt as she interviews the six Scorned Lover murderers of your favorite volleyball boys as they tell their tale on what happened those faithful days.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Sugawara Koushi/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 78





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Song Choice: Cell Block Tango
> 
> There will be mentions of various forms of murder, however I don't plan for them to be insanely graphic.

Alex Hunt takes a deep breath, looking up at the concrete building ahead. Maybe it was the gentle breeze or the uncertainty in her chest, but a chill runs down her spine as she gets closer and closer to the entrance.

At first, the idea of being the first one to interview all of the Scorned Lovers, as the media dubbed them, was a dream come true. Some journalists never get such a great opportunity to make a name for themselves. But as she swallows the lump in her throat, she wonders if it was too late to turn back.

Alex nods politely to the guards as she walks into the prison. Her whole body feels stiff, like her motions are robotic because the silence isn’t welcoming, it’s eerie. She writes down her name on the visitors’ log, hand trembling as she hands the pen back to the female guard who offers her a polite smile. There’s no distinct scent, the absence of something familiar just adds to the uneasy feeling blooming throughout her ribcage. It’s stuffy, the lack of airflow sucking out the only comfort she has.

The details from each murder are fresh in her mind: gun shots, poisoning, knife wounds, beheading, bludgeoning, and drowning; having read through the case files multiple times preparing for this week. Each day she’ll meet with one of the six, listening to their recounts of the events that transpired. The events that led to the crime scene photos that have been etched in her head.

Her heart is racing, footsteps echoing through the narrow hallway as another guard leads her into a narrow room. Divided by a glass partition, a phone on each side of the glass, Alex takes a seat in the chair furthest from the door. She’s bouncing her knee up and down, anxiety coursing through her body before the sound of a metal door being opened interrupts her.

Alex looks towards the right, glancing at the person walking down the other side of the glass. The awkwardly shaped khaki uniform hangs off your body, clearly a few sizes too big and if she looks closely, Alex can see something close to a smirk on your face.

You sit down across from Alex, at first you were opposed to the idea of being interviewed; worried your words would get twisted or your story would be inaccurately portrayed all over again. You pick up the black corded phone from the wall mount and nod for Alex to do the same. She picks up the phone, looking back towards you.

You made direct eye contact, the expression causes Alex to shiver before you speak; your voice flooding into her ear. 

“Before we start, let me just say that if you had been there, I bet you would have done the same.”


	2. "Pop!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamaki had an annoying tendency to pop his gum, did it end well for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actions and beliefs of the characters in this series do not reflect those beliefs of the writer.
> 
> There is mention of gun use in this chapter.

“L/N. You have a visitor. Let’s go.” You look at the guard before excusing yourself from the small group of inmates you’ve befriended. Letting out a sigh, you tilt your head to each side, giving it a light stretch before following the guard.

You still feel uneasy about being interviewed, you know how easy it is for words to get mixed up or just wrongly quoted. But the others in your group, the other five of the Scorned Lovers decided to speak, so you couldn’t be the odd ball out. 

Scorned Lovers. You scoff internally at that term; the media really took leeway with that. The six of you didn’t know each other before now, the six of you didn’t have some pact to murder anyone, but it stuck.

The metal door to the visitor’s room being opened brings you from your thoughts. You look up and see a small brunette woman sitting all the way at the end. Walking towards her, you can tell she’s tense; you couldn’t blame her. When you first arrived here, you were a mess: scared, uneasy, and spent a lot of time alone, at least until you met the other Scorned Lovers.

“I’m Alex Hunt. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.” She smiles at you, but you hear the tremble of her voice.

“F/N L/N. Please just call me F/N.” You smirk.

“Okay, F/N. Can you tell me about that day? Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

You tilt your head to the side, looking at Alex as she grabs her pen to start taking notes.

“It was just one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.”

Alex shakes her head and you know exactly what she’s thinking: what could’ve gone so wrong that day that you shot your boyfriend? But like everyone else who thought that, they weren’t there, you were.

“Care to start from the beginning?”

“Yeah, sure.” You let out a deep breath before letting your mind go back to that afternoon.

* *  
Nothing seemed to go right for you today at all. Your phone didn’t charge while you slept so your alarm didn’t go off and you were almost an hour late for work. Your least favorite coworker used the last of your coffee creamer. And to top it off, you stepped in gum. Yeah, today was a shit day and you couldn’t wait to get home to your boyfriend. 

“You would not believe the day I’ve had Makki!” You whined as you slid off your shoes before walking across the plush carpet. Your boyfriend was lounging on the couch, phone in one hand with a beer on the other. He was currently in between jobs so it wasn’t unusual for you to find him expressionless as he scrolled through whatever app he was on.

Pop!

“I mean it was like all my bad karma came back for me all at once!” You continued as you walked into the kitchen, hoping to get a bottle of your favorite juice. There were none, today was clearly the gift that kept giving.

Pop!

You opted to grab a bottle of water before sitting down next to Hanamaki. You leaned your head on his shoulder, hoping he’d comfort you in some way.

Pop!

He doesn’t. Instead, the bored looking man continued to scroll mindlessly through his phone, ignoring your pleas. The quiet room was filled with the loud pops of his chewing gum.

“Makki, are you even listening to me?

Pop!

Another pop filled your ears as the anger in you rose. Your day had been miserable and you didn’t think asking your boyfriend to be a shoulder to cry on was asking too much. Especially since he sat at home all day and on the off chance he did leave, it wasn’t for an interview but to goof off with Matsukawa. 

Pop!

* *  
Alex makes a face and you can almost predict what she’s going to say. “So, he was chewing gum and ignoring you?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “He wasn’t chewing, he was popping. And it was a crisp and sharp pop that echoed in my ears on repeat. Surely you can see the problem with that?”

She shakes her head, “I’d get annoyed sure, but I can’t see how that warrants murder.”

“Like I said earlier, it was just one of those days where everything went wrong.”

* *  
Pop!  
Pop!  
Pop!  
Pop!

You wanted to scream, the echoing noise getting louder and louder in your head. The mixture of the annoying sounds and the blatant uninterested attitude from your boyfriend slowly starts to chip away at your rational thought; at your sanity.

Pop!  
Pop!  
Pop!  
Pop!

Maybe your body was moving on its own, maybe somewhere in your subconscious you knew what you were doing, but before you can put two and two together, you’re holding a shotgun in your hands.

It’s heavier than you thought, you suddenly couldn’t remember if you’ve ever held it before, but you’ve seen in movies people press it up against their shoulder so you mimicked the movement. 

You know you’ve never shot it before, you had no reason to. Your heart was beating surprisingly normal, a calmness washed over you.

Two thunderous cracks filled the air as you fired your warning shots, separated only by the chuchak as you pumped the shotgun; reloading it.

Your ears rang, but it was more than welcomed because the popping of gum stopped.

* *  
“Warning shots?” The journalist scoffs. “Those typically land near the person, not in their head.”

You shrugged, “I never suggested I had good aim.”


	3. "Six!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu tells Y/N that he’s single, what happens when they find out that he’s not so single after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actions and beliefs of the characters in this series do not reflect those beliefs of the writer.
> 
> There is mention of premeditated murder and the use of arsenic poisoning in this chapter.

You are tapping your fingers absentmindedly on the counter top when a light voice pulls you from your boredom.

“Y/N? Do you need me to repeat the question?” Alex asks, tilting her head as she looks at you.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She lets out a deep breath, it almost appears if she’s annoyed. “I asked you how you met Miya Atsumu.”

You let out a humorless laugh, “Oh that. It was two years ago.”

* *  
“Come on, where are they?” You tapped your foot against the ground, irritation filling you as you check your watch again. Your friend was supposed to meet you almost half an hour ago now. Pulling out your phone you quickly found their contact and called, pressing the phone to your ear. You heard the line get picked up but before you can say anything, someone ran into you causing your phone to drop to the cobblestone walkway.

“What? Where are you…” You trailed off, looking at the golden yellow haired man reaching down to pick up your phone.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He looked like he was going to hand you back your phone before you watched him type something on it. You didn’t know if you should be more concerned about the stranger using your phone or just pissed off.

“It’s fine.” You wanted to be irritated, but you saw a warmth in those brown eyes that took your breath away. Something about him was magnetic, pulling you into him with no effort at all.

“Just puttin’ my number in there, sweetheart.” He winked at you. “Don’t forget to use it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of just what to do, wanting this conversation to continue but not really knowing how to. You were typically appalled by the audacity of people, especially ones who just have that “pretty boy” aura.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

You shook your head, trying to formulate a sentence. “No. Heh. I’m Y/N.”

“Atsumu.” He smirked, reaching for your hand before he raises it to him, kissing it softly.

“I should go.” You nod your head in the opposite direction.

“I hope to see you again.”

You smiled at him before giving him a small nod. You had taken only a handful of steps when your phone started to ring. You quickly hit the green button, not paying attention to the caller, assuming it was your friend.

“Hi.” You let out breathlessly.

“Hi.” He smirked again and you thought you’d die right there. “Dinner?”

You turned around, seeing Atsumu in the same place you’d left him, phone to his ear before waving at you.

“How did you get my number?” You laughed.

“Couldn’t chance you not using mine, call it a back-up plan.” He laughed, “so dinner?”

“Sure.”

“That quick? I could be a murderer or something.”

“Guess I’ll just take my chances.” You rolled your eyes, not realizing all the red flags that started to wave.

* *  
“I’m guessing you went to dinner since we’re here having this conversation.”

You laugh. “We did. The next day actually. Hit it off almost immediately too.”

“It seems like things were great, what happened?”

“Atsumu was a professional volleyball player, so he spent a decent amount of time traveling.”

“I can imagine how hard that would be. Is that what caused issues?”

You shake your head, a small smile on your lips. “If only. Atsumu had what some would call fangirls and fanboys.”

“If he was a pro athlete, wouldn’t that come with the territory?” Alex raises an eyebrow, part of her wondering if she could handle that. Her partner constantly surrounded by others trying to win their affection.

“Yes, but he had a wandering eye,” you pause briefly as Alex takes notes but you cut her off before she says anything. “And a wandering dick.”

Alex’s eyes widen, partially in shock and maybe a little in understanding. She quickly scribbles your words as you finally recount that fateful night.

* *  
You had been living with Atsumu for roughly two years now with an almost perfect arrangement. The weeks spent apart weren’t always easy, but you always knew that at the end of the day he came home and that’s really all that mattered. 

When he was at home, things operated the same, an almost robotic set up: he’d come home from practice, you’d hand him a drink, finish cooking dinner and then you’d spent a couple hours together before heading off to bed. It was repetitive and a little mundane, but it was your life, your life with Atsumu and as long as you had each other, the both of you were happy. Or so you thought.

It was on a regular Thursday that Atsumu had left his phone at home when he headed off to practice after having an early morning practice with you. Any other day you would’ve simply ignored it, you had no reason to go through it, you trusted Atsumu. But when you came out of the shower, towel drying your hair, his phone was ringing from text messages over and over. His brother only ever texted once and Bokuto was at practice with him, so you weren’t sure who would be blowing up his phone like that. It’s when you looked at the copious amounts of notifications that your world collapsed.

Six. Six. Six different names of six different people all who seemed to have very similar relationships with Atsumu as you do. Six people all under the same belief that they are his one and only. Six people who thought he loved them, that he cherished them above anyone else. There were more people than you could count on one hand who Atsumu seemed to call the same loving names as you, said those same three words to them as you, your world was spinning and you weren’t sure if it’d ever stop.

You felt sick, the way you feel when your stomach drops when the roller coaster takes a dive or when water rushes into your face and you can’t find the ability to breathe. You tossed his phone on the bed, grabbed a pillow, shoved it into your face and screamed. You screamed until your throat hurt, until nothing came out, until you’ve pushed all the anger out. It’s when you sit the pillow down, when you take a deep breath that something snapped inside of you.

It had been several weeks since you had seen that the man you thought you would spend your life with turned out to be a cheating bastard. You found yourself laughing at the fact he actually had the audacity to tell you he was single. Maybe he didn’t mean single as in not dating anyone, maybe single was an acronym and each letter was the first initial of one of each partner’s name.

Over those last several weeks, things remained the same as they always had been. When Atsumu arrived home, you gave him a very loving smile, handed him his favorite drink and finished cooking dinner before you ate together. The only difference was Atsumu was suffering from some strange stomach pain and cramping that had started to plague his every day. You doted on him, telling him you wished he didn’t feel bad and offered him medications, taking care of him when he’s home.

Then the day came, where he was sitting at the kitchen table, weakly taking a sip of his drink, the same kind you always made him, before he collapsed face first into the table. You glanced back at him, face first on his empty plate, you only wished dinner had been finished in time to be plated. You cut the burner off, grabbing your cup of coffee before sitting down across from Atsumu at the table.

* *  
Alex looks at you in disbelief, unable to comprehend the exact nature of your story. The self-control you had to take and plan his downfall after learning of a heinous betrayal shocked her. Sure she had heard of premediated murder before, but to hear the raw details from the person who committed the crime was jarring.

“You sat and ate your dinner while he laid unconscious at the table?” Alex scribbles something on her notes.

Your legs are crossed and you begin to shake your foot, the irritation building back up inside you thinking of how nonchalant Atsumu had been about the whole thing. For weeks, months, years, he treated you like you were the only one and you meant no more to him than the six people he was with.

“Well, it’s not my fault he couldn’t handle his arsenic.”


	4. "Squish!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Kuroo starts throwing around cheating accusations?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actions and beliefs of the characters in this series do not reflect those beliefs of the writer.
> 
> There is mention of cheating accusations and knife use (aka stabbing) in this chapter.

"You were actually married to Kuroo Tetsurou, correct?” Alex asks you with a friendly smile.

“Yes. We had actually met in high school. Dated on and off before settling down halfway through college.” You answer it almost robotically. Sometimes you find yourself thinking back to how things used to be with Kuroo, back before the stress of life started getting too heavy for your relationship to handle.

“How long were the two of you together?”

“We were only married for four. We started dating just a few weeks after we met, so we’d been together in some capacity for ten years.”

“Wow. Ten years. That’s a long time.” Alex flips through the case file she has opened next to her notes. Clearly something about your statement had triggered her to remember something. “It says that you said he had been acting odd that day, how did he normally act?”

* *  
Kuroo was the ever-doting husband, he had been an amazing partner the entirety of your relationship. Even when you broke up or took breaks throughout your last year of high school and first half of college, he was always there for you. You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up deserving the dork with unruly bedhead, but you did and he seemed to be someone you wouldn’t be able to get rid of.

He put his all into everything, if that wasn’t obvious in your relationship, it was in his friendship with Kenma, it was evident in the passion he held for volleyball throughout his school years and even now in his job as sports promoter. He loved his job, enjoyed every aspect of it, the only thing he’d change was the trips he had to make that kept him away from you. Not all sponsorships could be acquired over the phone and no venue could be booked without the proper walk-through. 

You didn’t mind the time apart, what was a few days when you had spent months without him? There was a deep and unspoken trust between the two of you, it showed in the ways you complimented each other, in the lack of excessive text messages asking where you were and what you were doing when the two of you were in different districts. But distance creates doubt, even if it’s just a little, even if it’s never acted on, doubt beings to fester nevertheless. 

It had started when you missed Kuroo’s nightly call when he was away for a four days trip, the next morning you quickly explained you two had a new neighbor moving in next door to your apartment and you were helping them. Then it was added when Kuroo came home and saw this new neighbor was some attractive man, a detail you happened to leave out. He knew he had no reason to not trust you, but the comfortable way this new neighbor smiled at you, the way he draped his arm effortless around you or lightly touched your waist when he walked by made Kuroo’s blood boil.

You didn’t notice the subtle changes at first, the increased amount of calls and messages you received when Kuroo had to go away on a trip, the way his hands were always somewhere on you when your neighbor was around or the fact that he seemed to comment “who is there?” at every sound that came from your end of the phone line. Your laidback husband had slowly become paranoid and a bit possessive when it came to you and as you started to see it, it began to wear at your nerves.

* *  
“What was it about the neighbor that got under his skin?”

You shrug, “I really couldn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t…” Alex trails off, trying to collect her thoughts and figure out to word her question. “There was never…”

“Are you asking if I gave him any reason to doubt my faithfulness?” You let out an irritated sigh, cutting your eyes at the journalist. It’s annoying to you that it’s also assumed you gave Kuroo a reason to freak out, a reason to doubt you. As if for some reason it was unheard of that he could’ve made the whole thing up, which is exactly what happened. 

“I…uhm, yes. That’s what I’m asking.” Alex looks at you, there’s a look in her eye that is thankful for the glass that separated the two of them.

You bite your lip. “No, no I didn’t. But you weren’t there, were you? If you’d been there, you’d be a bit more understanding.”

* *  
Kuroo was due home any minute for a two weeks long trip and you were excited for him to finally come home. Mostly because your phone would go off what felt like every five minutes, but also because you just wanted your husband back home. 

You had been in the kitchen, cutting the lemon into wedges to go with the grilled salted mackerel pike you had made specifically for Kuroo; it being his favorite and all. Your day had been hectic with getting everything together while catering to your husband's annoying phone tendencies, hoping that since this was his last super long trip for a while, things could calm down. A smile stretched across your face as you heard the door being fiddled with from the outside.

“Tetsu! How was yo—” You stopped talking when you saw his eyebrows pinched together as he all but slammed shut the front door, throwing his bag against the closest wall.

“You’ve been fucking the neighbor, haven’t you?” He shouted at you and you found yourself unable to process the words he was saying. The notion itself was completely unfounded, there was no reason for you to step out on your marriage. Your track record all but proved that, even when the two of you had broken up neither one of you dated anyone else, neither one of you even gave anyone the time of day. You were all for him the same way he was all for you. 

You had formed several sentences in your head, multiple ways to ask him exactly what he was thinking about, why he would accuse you of such an act, but “what?” was all that left your lips. 

Kuroo stormed through the living room and with each loud step, your hand instinctively tightened around the handle of the knife you had been using. He continued to repeat his original question, the wording changing a little each time but the concept remaining the same: had you slept with the neighbor?

He finally stopped his stomping when he made it into the kitchen, standing just mere inches from you with a fire in his eyes. You had never seen him this angry before, sure he got upset just like everyone else, he’s human after all, but this was next level and you weren’t sure how to feel. You could feel his breath on your face as he once again accused you of having an affair and that’s when you started to see red, the knife that was gripped in your hand feeling heavy all of a sudden.

* *  
You blink back a few tears, remembering what happened was painful because despite his behavior, Kuroo Tetsurou was the love of your life for ten years. You both had grown up together, saw the best and worst of each other. 

Alex looks like she’s digging through her bag for a tissue before she stops, clearly remembering there’s a thick sheet of glass between you and her. It causes you to give her a soft and kind smile, the type of smile you haven’t given anyone in a very long time.

“Do you think it was just stress?” Alex’s voice is low, soft and caring making you smile a little more.

“Maybe. He had been working for a big promotion of some sort.” You wipe the corners of your eyes, “he was really smart, you know?”

Alex smiles, nodding at you. 

You could spend the rest of the day rambling about how you once felt about Kuroo, your Tetsu, but no one wants to hear that story. They only want to know about the story, the reason, the day that landed you here. They only want the sordid details of the day you betrayed your husband, but could you blame them? Scorned love sells better than eternal love.

* *  
His eyes widened while his jaw dropped as the knife punctured his lower abdomen and you watched the anger, the wrath that was in his eyes fade out. He looked at you in shock, but you were the one seeing red now, hand still tightly wrapped around the knife’s handle as adrenaline kicked in. 

Was the red you saw anger? Was it the blood that splattered back on you as you quickly pulled out the knife only to stab it into him over and over? Once before you had wondered what being stabbed felt like, you spent hours looking into it, learning things you hadn’t thought of. Some describe the impact as an electric shock sensation, others noting vividly remembering the heat that accompanies the wound and that at first the rush of adrenaline prevented them from feeling anything.

Part of you wondered what Tetsu felt right now. The tingling feeling? Burning heat? Or was he in the eye of the storm, the increase of hormones keeping his pain away? You hoped that somewhere in this he felt the same betrayal you did when he accused you of cheating.

* *  
“The autopsy reported that you had stabbed him ten times. It was a stab wound to his liver that ultimately killed him.” Alex’s tone is flat now, the caring voice she once had is gone.

“The police report will say that he ran into the knife.”

“Some people say that that is a lie. That you did have the affair, that you are a liar.”

“People can say whatever they want, but I didn’t lie. Not that day and not on my wedding day.” You stand up, signaling for the guard that you are ready to leave. “I meant it when I said till death do us part.”


	5. "Uh uh"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your husband Ushijima is murdered, but you swear you didn’t do it. What now?
> 
> Song Translation: "What am I doing here? They said that my rich landlord held my husband, and I chopped off his head. But it's not true. I am innocent. I do not know why Uncle Sam says I did it. I tried to explain to the police, but they didn't understand!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actions and beliefs of the characters in this series do not reflect those beliefs of the writer.
> 
> There is mention of beheading/dismemberment

Alex’s brows knit together when she briefly skims through your file once more. It was different from the others, the others acknowledged to have done it, that their lover had used and abused them, but you adamantly retained that you were innocent. That’s what separated you from the others and Alex couldn’t figure out why you had been lumped in the group to begin with. The crime itself was close to one of the most gruesome, if not the most gruesome one of them all. Alex couldn’t even allow herself to look at the crime scene photos after the initial glance.

The other inmates had a more confident demeanor when they walked into the visitation area, but you looked a bit timid, a bit more reserved as you sat down, chewing on your bottom lip; your eyes glued to the floor.

“L/N F/N?” Her tone is soft and gentle as she tries to coax you into looking up at her.

“Just Y/N is fine.” You keep looking at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. The others had convinced you to meet with Alex, saying that you could try to tell your story again, maybe she would listen. 

“Okay, Y/N, your story is a bit different than everyone else’s.” Alex fidgets with the pen in her hand, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Can you tell me what you remember?”

You look up at her, just the thought of thinking about that night causes tears to fill your eyes which seems to catch Alex’s attention. 

“Why don’t you start by telling me more about Ushijima Wakatoshi? He was your husband, right? Tell me about that first, there aren’t many details about that.”

You give her a small smile, part of you feels like it’s a good thing that someone is asking more about your relationship prior to the incident, but there’s still a part of you that’s worried this is just a ploy. But hopefully your innocence wouldn’t fall on deaf ears this time. 

“Toshi is…was a very dedicated man. He put his all into volleyball and was rewarded heavily for that. He was a professional player.” You smile fondly as the memories of your husband fill your mind, it had been easier on you to not think about him, not that that came easily to you. 

“I see he played for a few different teams, even for the Japan National Team, you must have been proud.”

Your face lights up, Alex could swear she saw a little twinkle in your eye. “I was. I was proud of everything Toshi did. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me.”

“It sounds like you really loved him.”

You nod repeatedly, “I did. I still do.” Tears start to fall down your face, you wipe them away frantically.

Alex holds back another question, letting you compose yourself. Talking to you was different to the others, yesterday when she had talked to the partner of Kuroo they had cried, but you crying right now is different. It’s sincere, like the kind of sincerity that only an innocent person can have.

Fresh tears race to replace the ones you wipe away, you feel your breathing hitch just a little. “He could be very straight-forward at times, very blunt, but I think that was charming. It let you know that he really meant what he said.” 

You know that you can’t just talk about your husband the whole time, that eventually you’ll have to tell her about the night you lost him, but when you do talk about him, for a just a moment, it’s like he’s still around. Like he’ll walk over to you, place a kiss on your temple, telling you he’s sorry he’s late, that practice had ran over. Or he’ll have just gotten home from an away game, making you close your eyes before handing you a gift, something that made him think of you when he saw it. For just a minute, you can still feel his warmth around you.

Alex feels awkward, but it’s her job. She may think you could be innocent, that you are telling the truth, but she wasn’t blind to the fact that people can lie and be very convincing. It’s like you know what she’s thinking, giving her a nod as if to tell her it’s fine to ask you about the crime you’ve been accused of.

“Could you tell me about the man they said was there?”

You shrug, finally wiping away all your tears. “He was just the landlord of our building, I don’t know why he was there.”

“Why do you think people assume you and the landlord conspired together?”

You sniffle, recalling all the hateful things that had been said to you. “Toshi and I didn’t know each other long before getting married. It was what you’d call a,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “whirlwind romance.”

Alex nods, jotting down your words as you continue.

“Everyone said it was out of character for Toshi, claiming that I only got with him for his money and was using him.” Tears once again fall down your cheeks, “it wasn’t like that at all. I loved him.”

You told Alex a little more about how his family was very traditional, so your brief affair before your marriage wasn’t favored by his family. How the only one who really supported your relationship was his good friend Tendou who said as long as Ushijima was happy he could care less about how long you’d known him.

“Can you tell me about that night?”

You swallow thickly, the lump that has been building in your throat refusing to budge. 

* *  
You had been out shopping, gathering a few things for the weekend. Ushijima was coming home today and you didn’t want any reason to leave the apartment, wanting to be completely selfish and keep him all to yourself. It had been roughly two weeks since he’d been home, he had back to back away games. 

When you got home, you were surprised to see the door was opened. When you walked inside, a blood-curdling scream escaped you, the bags falling out of your hands as your eyes filled with tears. There was blood everywhere, seeping into and staining the light-colored carpet, some pooling around your husband’s neck.

A broken gasp left your lips as you covered your mouth, your stomach twisting as tears blurred your vision. Your heart broke, your husband covered in blood, dismembered as your landlord sat there next to the body. You ran to your husband before your legs gave out, dropping next to him, crying out for him. You repeatedly said ‘no’ as if somehow, you’d wake up to discover this was some nightmare. 

When the police arrived, you were covered in blood, inconsolable, unable to tell them anything. At the station they repeatedly told you what they thought had happened, that your landlord held down Ushijima while you beheaded him which made you even more hysterical. You would never do anything to hurt Toshi, you could never even imagine doing something so gruesome to someone you love, something so gruesome to anyone. 

But it didn’t matter to them what you said, they had already written the narrative they wanted, the narrative that could be used against you. Nothing you did or said mattered to anyone, no matter how many times you screamed ‘not guilty’, it fell on deaf ears every time. 

* *  
Alex feels her stomach drop, the urge to puke washing over her. It was one thing to briefly scan over the photos of the crime scene, it was another to hear its description with such emotion. To watch someone recounting the worst memory of their life, completely falling apart without being able to do anything.

As a journalist, she’s supposed to be unbiased, her job is to report the facts and not allow her emotions, her feelings to weave their way into how she tells the story. Yet in this moment, staring at you, she doesn’t feel like she can do that. 

You slump in your chair, the crying, the remembering, were all rather exhausting and you just wanted to go back to your cell and sleep. You didn’t mind talking to Alex, her questions and demeanor were a lot different that all the other reporters, the other inmates, it was a welcomed reprieve, but now you just wanted to relax or at least relax the best that you could.

“Before you go, is there anything else you want to say? Anything you want the world to know about you? The real you, not the one this crime has painted as you?”

Your eyes fill with tears all over again, your knees shake as you stand up to leave. 

“Not guilty.”


	6. "Cicero!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought you and your sister just had one thing in common. What happens when you learn you have a second thing in common: your husband, Oikawa Tooru?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actions and beliefs of the characters in this series do not reflect those beliefs of the writer.
> 
> There is mention of bludgeoning, memory loss, and blood.

If Alex had to pick one word that described you, it would be smug. From the way you walked into the room, how you pulled out the chair, even the expression on your lips, were all smug. She knew right away that this interview would be a lot different than the others, something about you just radiated that energy, that almost dramatic flair an actress has when walking down a red-carpet Alex would’ve chuckled aloud if she knew it wouldn’t have inflated your ego that much more.

You look at Alex on the other side of the glass and smirk to yourself even though you know she can see you. You are the one who got everyone else to agree to this series of interviews, truth be told, you just wanted another chance to be interviewed. Prison wasn’t glitz and glam, no one cared about who you used to be outside the plain, cracked concrete walls, but those on the outside were so invested in what each inmate did, you decided to give them a show.

“Alex Hunt. How’d you end up landing this job?” You pull the sucker out of your mouth, making a pop sound, “I figured it’d be someone more…experienced.”

If she’s taken aback, you can’t tell which intrigues you but also pisses you off in a way. “I don’t have to interview you, I can just exclude yours from the piece.”

You raise your eyebrows, slightly surprised at her sharp tongue, but knowing you were going to have fun talking with her, “I don’t recall that being what I said.”

“Then shall we start? Or do you have more banter you’d like to get out?” Alex picks up her pen, flipping over the already written on pages to a clear page.

“Yellow legal pad, how very original.”

“Are you finished yet? Or are you going to comment on how I’m not wearing a hat or going by the nickname, Ace?”

You laugh, a sincere laugh, something you hadn’t done in years. This would definitely be fun. “Should I start by stating my name for the record?”

“Sure, we can start with something easy.”

“L/N F/N. But I prefer just going by Y/N.” You scoot the chair back, propping your feet up on the small counter space you have on your side of the glass.

Alex just mutters under her breath, though nothing that you are able to hear. She scribbles something on her notepad before looking up. “ Your case is the only one that involves a double homicide. Says here it was your husband and…”

You finish the statement for her, “my sister.”

A cold chill runs down Alex’s spine, up until now they had just been crimes committed against lovers, but not with you. She takes a moment to catch her breath, to gather her thoughts, never in a million years could Alex imagine killing one of her siblings. Though she also couldn’t be sure if she found them with her significant other, the thought wouldn’t cross her mind.

“Tell me about your sister. What was she like?”

You let out a breath though your nose, trying to figure out what exactly to say. What was she like? Did you even remember? Whenever you tried to think about her, all you could recall was her and your lover in the throes of passion. 

“The opposite of me, that’s for sure.”

“How so?”

You bite down on the little bit of the sucker that’s left, the broken pieces fall off the stick which you just hold between the corner of your lips. “If I was dark then she was light. I wanted to be a part of everything, be in the middle of the chaos so to speak. But Sis, she just wanted to stay in, to be away from everything.”

“What about your husband?” She slides a few folders around before picking up the one with your name on it, “Oikawa Tooru. How did you meet him?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” The smug expression Alex saw you wear when you first walked in was gone replaced by one that she swore was more devilish and mischievous than she’d seen before.

* *  
“Someone wants to meet you.” Your sister looked at you with a small smirk. 

It was late, your show had run late and you just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep. It was unlike you, your sister would make that same remark, but international travel was wearing you down.

“I really just want to go to bed.”

“I really think you should go meet him.”

You rolled your eyes, how many times could you fake a smile through fans telling you how sexy it was that you were -that- flexible before following it up with some poor and downright lame attempt at trying to sleep with you? But your sister was never this persistent which made you feel you should.

“Okay, okay, where is he?”

“Right out there,” she pushed you through the door of your dressing room but before you could yell at her, you felt yourself bump into someone. When you looked up, a pair of wide brown eyes take in your (e/c) eyes before he apologized.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was so close to the door.”

You wanted to tell him that he wasn’t. that your sister pushed you, that you lost your footing, but none of those seemed to come out of your mouth as you took in the tall brunette’s features. You swallowed hard, inhaling though your nose before introducing yourself.

“I know, I’ve been to a few of your shows.” You watched as his cheeks reddened. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

“Sorry, but I don’t recognize your name.” You smirked and could’ve swore you saw his knees buckle. 

He ran his fingers through the poof of brunette hair. “I take that as a good thing, though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

His words were innocent, but the tone in his voice made them cocky and you knew in that moment you were hooked on this Oikawa Tooru.

“As much as I’m enjoying this banter, you can just skip the part where you tell me how hot it is that I can put my legs behind my head and I’ll just skip to the part where I turn down your poor attempt to sleep with me.”

“Ah. I should’ve guessed this happened a bit.” He leaned forward, causing you to back into the wall behind you. His hand on the right side of your face, pressed flat against the wall as his nose brushed yours. “Well I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve seen a few people that can put their legs behind their head.”

THUD. Your heart rammed into your ribs.

“Oh? Then why bother coming backstage? Surely not to get an autograph, mine’s not that pretty.”

He smirked, leaning closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “How else would I ask you to dinner?”

* *  
“We dated for a while, he stopped playing professional volleyball and joined my sister and I on the road. We got married about a year or so later.”

“You traveled for acrobatic routines?” She looks up at you, making sure she had the facts right and not in the condescending way other reporters had looked at you. 

“Yes. It was the one and only thing my sister and I actually did together. Well, unless you count the incident that landed me here.” You pull your legs off the counter, standing up to stretch a bit. 

“If you had to describe how you felt that night, the night of the incident, which word would you use?”

“Betrayed.”

* *  
“I can’t believe it! Two hundred shows, that’s insane!” Your sister laughed, popping open a new bottle of champagne, haphazardly pouring it into you and Oikawa’s glasses.

“I can. You two are simply amazing.” He pressed a sloppy kiss on your temple before downing his drink.

The three of you were in you and Oikawa’s hotel room, celebrating the fact that the show you just finished had been the two hundredth show you and your sister had done. It was a huge feat for the two of you since you didn’t have a proper manager, Oikawa had been doing the best he could in the three years you’d been together. 

You watched as your sister turned up the music that had been playing, dragging Oikawa to his feet and making him spin her around as they did something that looked like dancing. You laughed, loving how close your sister and husband were, it made the three of you traveling all over easier on you. You didn’t have to worry about petty fights and having to pick sides because that would’ve been hell. Acrobatics was the biggest thing that linked you and your sister after years of being polar opposites and you wouldn’t trade your relationship with Oikawa for anything, he was the only person other that your sister that understood you, made you feel safe.

“Maybe while I go get ice, you two can learn how to dance.”

The three of you all laughed, a mix of happiness and alcohol clouding everyone’s judgements and decisions. You turned to look back at them once more before slipping down the hallway, empty ice bucket in hand, feeling on top of the world.

* *  
Alex shifts in her seat uncomfortably, she knows what you’re going to tell her next. She’s read the reports, seen the crime scene photos but just like her last interview, the emotional recollection of the events made it that much harder to stomach. 

“You couldn’t have been gone long though.”

“Heh.” You scoff, “long enough apparently.”

* *  
They must not have heard the door click open due to the loudness of the music, that’s what you told yourself when you say your sister and husband in the compromised position you found them in. They would’ve jumped apart, right? 

Would’ve told you that it wasn’t what it looked like, right? 

That it was just the alcohol, right? 

Not just continuing the crude act they were preforming, right?

Then it all hit you, like a train, the way your sister would look at him. How her fingers would linger on him when she handed him something. How you’d seen his eyes follow her around a room while sitting next to you. How all the times you found them together, looking like two teenagers who were walked in on, didn’t seem so innocent anymore, you didn’t seem so paranoid now.

Your vision seemed both blurry and red at the same time. An intense anger that you’d never felt before, is that what it felt like to have the two people you loved more than life itself betray you? You sat the ice bucket down, fingers wrapped the candlestick on the shelf. You chuckled, remembering how your sister had pointed it out calling it tacky, maybe in some sense that was ironic.

You lifted it above your head with both hands, the last thing your remembered was Oikawa shouting your name as your sister screamed.

* *

“You really don’t remember anything else?” Alex is quickly writing down what you’ve said, making sure not to miss any detail.

“Not at all. Not until I walked into the bathroom.”

* *

You cocked your head to the side, watching as the red liquid dripped from your hands, how it just smeared when you rubbed your hands together. You saw how your golden band was stained as you ran water over your hands, the white sink turning pink. It was in that moment you knew that both your sister and husband were dead. 

* *

“I know that look.” You say, looking directly at Alex, who looks positively pale.

“What look?”

“The ‘I can’t believe they did that’ look.” You scoff. “As if you know what you would do in that situation.”

“I don’t, but…”

You cut her off, “then how can you tell me that I was wrong?”


	7. Lipschitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara was just trying to find himself, how well does that work out for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actions and beliefs of the characters in this series do not reflect those beliefs of the writer.
> 
> There is mention of drowning and alcohol consumption in this chapter.

“Do you want to tell me a little bit about Sugawara?” She stretches her neck to the left and then right, tapping her pen on the legal pad.

“Sure.” You smile at the journalist, but it never really touches your eyes. 

* *  
“Just a minute longer, I swear.”

You sighed, your boyfriend had said that same line five minutes ago. You were restless, legs stiff from not moving and all you could think of was how good it would feel when you could finally stretch. When you could finally put on something warm, the sheer fabric he had delicately draped over you wasn’t cutting it anymore, your bare skin felt the chill from the cool air that blew in through the opened window.

“You said that for the last five minutes, Kōshi.”

The silver-haired man just laughed behind the canvas, paintbrush held in the air as he narrowed his eyes looking at his work, then up at you then back to the painting. You leaned up just enough to see that he was biting the end of the brush which you knew meant that he was conflicted. All artists are their own worst critics, but sometimes you felt Suga was worse than Van Gogh, Monet and even Pollock at times. Not that you really had any frame of reference, but still. 

Watching him painstakingly criticize his own work, endlessly making changes that he only deemed made the pieces worse was really hard for you, watching the person you love drive themselves into a dark hole of perfectionism took a toll on the both of you. But you loved him and at the end of the day, that made it all better, right?

After what felt like forever, you finally saw his signature smile, the one that was bigger than life and he sat down his paint palette then swirled the brush in his murky colored water cup. You watched his shoulders relax before he nodded and you knew that he was finally done.

“Lemme see! Lemme see!” You squealed as he walked closer to you, sitting next to you on the sofa you had been lounged out on.

He kissed you, the paint on his hands and fingers transferred to your skin as he grabbed your face. You scrunched up your nose as the cool wet sensation before kissing him back.

“Maybe tomorrow.” He peppered your face with kisses as you both laughed. His hands trailed down your arms and across your upper chest, his lips were pressed up against yours again.

“You’re going to get paint all over me!” You giggled, his lips trailed across your jaw and down your neck.

“That’s okay.” His eyes met yours, “you’ll become my greatest master piece.” 

* *  
“They say that artists can be very passionate people.”

A laugh escapes you and Alex looks at you confused, “that’s a bit of an understatement.”

“It couldn’t have been easy on your relationship. Artists tend to struggle for a while before gaining notoriety.”

“He worked as an elementary school teacher during the day. It wasn’t the money that caused issues, it was watching him tear himself apart that was the hardest.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“No one was harder on him about his art than he was. He could produce something that was immaculate, but he’d say his students’ finger paintings were better.” You take a deep breath, “it was hard watching him beat himself over things I couldn’t help fix.”

“What changed? How did you go from wanting what’s best for him to…being in here?”

“A lot. A lot changed.”

* *  
It started when he decided to go out one night with his coworkers for drinks one Friday night. You didn’t mind it, you really didn’t because you trusted Suga and you enjoyed seeing him relax for the first time in a while. What did bother you was the fact that it seemed the occasional Friday night turned into the whole weekend to where he spent more days of the week out than at home.

Your knees were pulled up to your chest while you sat on the couch, a commercial playing on the TV while you scroll through your phone. When that stopped being a solace for you, you tossed it across the couch, deciding to stroll through his art studio. The smell that hit you when you opened the door was a mix of acrylic paint and peppermint, it was undeniably Suga. You saw one of his easels covered with a sheet which intrigued you, it wasn’t often that you didn’t see his work.

But once the sheet came off, you wished you never had. Your stomach dropped. It was like all of the memories you had spent making since high school, since college, shattered and all the jagged edges pierced into your heart as it sank. You could tell by the pose it was the one he had painted of you a couple months ago, the one that he told you wasn’t ready. Now you understood what he meant by ‘not ready’, it was your pose, but it wasn’t your body, wasn’t your face. You weren’t sure who it was but you knew it wasn’t you, the curves and lines, they didn’t belong to you. Tears welled in your eyes as you chewed on your bottom lip, realizing that while you laid completely exposed to him, his mind was clearly on whoever was in this painting.

Three long hours had passed before he stumbled into your shared apartment, crashing into everything he possibly could, waking you from your sleep. While his head hurt from the alcohol, yours hurt from crying. You got up, walking in just soon enough to watch your boyfriend fall onto the couch face first.

“Suga?” You leaned against the door frame.

He hummed something in response into the cushion.

“Kōshi? Babe?” You walked through the room, crouching down next to his head before placing a hand on his back.

He mustered up just enough strength to turn to face you, “I didn’t mean to wake up, sweetness.”

His innocent words, gentle tone, the use of the nickname reserved for only him, didn’t stop the tears from slipping down your cheeks, doesn’t untwist the knot that tightening in your stomach, doesn’t remove the fact that you can’t help the one person that you want to.

After that night, you watched him change. He spent more time in his art studio, face covered with paint smudges, a sight you thought was absolutely adorable. He seemed happier, constantly dragging you into the studio to show off various artworks he’d finished. Everything was perfect, until he came home smelling like cheap perfume and stale beer.

* *  
“So he was cheating?”

You smile politely which catches Alex off guard, placing your elbow on the counter in front of you, as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you look at her. “He said he was trying to find himself.”

“Trying to find himself?” A look of pure bewilderment crossed Alex’s face.

“That’s the exact expression I wore when I asked him the same thing.”

* *  
“What the hell does that mean? Finding yourself?” You put air quotes around the last two words. There was a sense of anger running up your spine, you were tightly clenching your fists.

“I just think that I need to let loose. To learn how to breathe.” He flicked the paint brush against the blank canvas, not bothering to even look at you.

They say that smells can trigger memories, something with the olfactory system being located in the same part of the brain that effects emotions and creativity. Something about the fact that certain smells can affect the region of the brain that’s responsible for storing our emotional memories. That’s why you assumed whenever you smelled acrylic paint you thought of Kōshi, of the one person you thought would never let you down. 

But now the smell just made you nauseous, made your heart hurt because whoever this silver-haired man in front of you, it wasn’t the love of your life. Wasn’t the boyfriend you’d been with for years. No, because that man would never hurt you like this, would never refuse to look at you when he all but broke your heart.

“I didn’t realize I was suffocating you, thought I was just being supportive!”

You yelled and then he yelled then you yelled some more and before you knew it the paintbrush hit the floor with so much force it bounced a bit. He shook his head storming passed you, his shoulder hit yours but he didn’t stop. The walls vibrated when he slammed it shut, leaving you leaning against the door frame, lip quivering.

**  
You stormed through his studio, grabbing all the gallons of paint you could carry, making a few more trips than the anger in you wanted. You started to fill the bathtub, the various colors muddling together, the thick liquid clung to the lining of the tub. 

A smirk covered your lips as you thought back to how frustrated Suga would get when colors mixed like this, turning a disgusting brown that no artist would make on purpose. You remembered him saying the color reminded him of dirty paint water, somehow this all felt ironic.

Your foot catches on the rug into rug and you tripped, the empty red paint can fell from your hand; thin splatters clung to the white wall next to you.

* *  
Alex takes a deep breath, sitting her pen down before looking up at you. Hearing these crimes had progressively gotten worse as the interviews went by though she came into them thinking it’d get easier. 

“Why didn’t you just use water?”

You lean forwards, chin still on the palm of your hand, teeth showing as you smile. “I thought paint gave the scene a more artistic flair.”

* *  
You felt Sugawara’s resistance slowly fade as he stopped trying to push his hands up, stopped trying to lift his head out of the tub of paint. His feet stopped kicking against the floor, his body slowly became lifeless under your hold. You stood up, leaving his hunched over the side of the tub, his beautiful silver hair now covered in the brown paint mixture.

They say when someone drowns, their entire body fights to survive. There’s panic, the sheer realization of what’s happening and the frightening moment you know you don’t have an idea of what to do. The moment when you subconsciously know you’re about to lose consciousness, your lungs going against the logic of not breathing in the water to try to salvage your existence. Body going into overdrive trying to save you, trying to get much needed air into your lungs. Some who have survived drowning say they had flashbacks, snippets of their life that flash through their mind as consciousness faded. 

You wondered if Suga felt that panic, if his body had registered what was happening, or if the alcohol had clouded some of that. You wondered if he had fought as hard as he could’ve or if his inebriated state had lowered his abilities. You wondered if he saw flashbacks and what were they of. Did he see the two of you? The long years you had spent by his side, supporting every decision that he had made, giving up the few things you wanted for his dreams. Or did he see those women? The drunken nights spent at the bar, the woman he was thinking of when he was painting you, the owner of the cheap perfume he would come home smelling like. 

* *  
“Most people just break up with their lover when they discover they’re cheating.” Alex looks at you pointedly.

“We did, some could say we ended our relationship due to artistic differences.”

Alex looks at you puzzled, “I’m not sure I follow.”

You stand up, stepping as close to the glass as the counter will allow before slamming yours on the glass while pressing your face against it. Alex jumps back in her seat, her chair scooting against the tiles loudly, her heart thumping against her chest. She watches the guard rush over, grabbing you away from the divider and pulling you out of the room.

“He saw himself alive and I saw him dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: kaitycole


End file.
